Over the Hills and Far Away
by WhiteLadyoftheRing
Summary: AU . On Hiatus . Against all odds, Kim and Ron will come together, but at what cost? The CEO of Bueno Nacho and a commercial artist's wife? Please read and review! UPDATE 11.15
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own KP or NaNoWriMo. Boohoo.

_A Note from the Authoress: Yup, you heard right. This is my NaNoWriMo submission for 2005. If you aren't aware what NaNo is, go to and find out! But basically, it's writing a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. So the idea is word count word count word count, but it really does help to improve writing style, as weird as that is. So, I'm warning you: this is NOT my best writing. But I really like the plot of this story, so maybe you can read and review and tell me what you'd like to see revised? I'll do that in December._

_Also, this is an AU . . . you'll see. I'll leave it at that._

_Enjoy!_

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**_Over the Hills and Far Away_**

**Chapter One**

Ron Stoppable stared blankly at the monitor before him. It was a Monday morning, something even the most dedicated workaholic would dread, if anything for the fact the coffee always tasted stale, and the way the dragging of co-workers' feet always managed to drill into one's brain with the conviction of the most annoying song. And to top it all off, his computer had just crashed. One moment, the most recent stock rankings, and the next, nothing. No, nothing but the reflection of a youthful face and blonde hair. The bridge of his nose was dusted with little freckles, and the beginnings of worry lines were beginning to creep their way into his expression.

Yes, that was right, Ron Stoppable, CEO of Bueno Nacho Corp. was young. No, not only young; he was the youngest member of the 'BN Team' to make it to a corporate level. At 25, he was one of the richest men in the world, owned various estates around the globe, and yet, he'd still never married. Actually, he'd never even been kissed, let alone been in a serious relationship.

After all, he was a bit of a goof. He'd managed to chug his way through business school at an alarmingly fast rate, mostly on his odd but irresistible charm. He was never really one for school, and, after nearly being forced to become a super senior in high school, he realized that the harder he worked, the sooner he'd be out of the torture commonly referred to as school. Because he didn't have many friends, he really had no other choice but to spend all his time on school work in college. It was funny really, the guys that made fun of him in high school now worked at the Middleton Bueno Nacho, meanwhile, he was in charge of the entire change.

He truly loved irony.

Sighing, he punched the on switch of his computer. Nothing. Yup, this was most certainly a Monday. Why else would things be going this poorly?

"Hey, Ron," came the dull voice from the door of his office.

Josh Mankey . . . Mankey was young, Ron's age, actually, and his knack for commercial art had brought him all the way to Bueno Nacho Corp. The young man was so talented, in fact, that Ron insisted on working with him on the same level. They had different views on things, surely, but with Ron's passion for cheap Mexican fast food, and Josh's talent for selling things through art, the company had had even greater success than before.

It was true that they need not work so much together, but it had become such a habit that they couldn't really help it. They'd begun working together about a month prior, and had since become wonderful friends, well, as far as Ron's friends went. He was sure Josh was the kind that, in high school, had myriads of girls hanging all over him, and that he knew the greater part of his graduating class. Ron, on the other hand, had been laughed at by most of his classmates, and was always the one who wasn't able to contribute any naughty stories in the locker room before gym class. And it was a fair judgment, too. After all, Josh was the type who, although not 'built', was muscular, with a face that shone of both tenderness and masculinity and could have any girl he wanted. Utterly perfect dirty blonde hair was styled in a way that was considered fashionable in high school, but it seemed to fit him in the timeless way Ron's unkempt do did for him.

"Hey, Josh," Ron groaned, kicking his computer in frustration.

"Technology getting the better of ya?" Josh smiled, sitting in the chair across from his boss.

"Unfortunately, yes," Ron grinned a bit, although he did not know why, and began loosening his tie. He never really got used to the starched clothing. "Anyways," he began. "How are you?"

Josh chuckled a bit, "Fine, but the wife's out of a job again."

Ron's expression was truly sympathetic. "What does she do again?" He was instantly sorting through a stack of papers, seemingly nonchalantly, but, always ready to help, he was looking for any glaring holes in the payroll.

Josh smiled. "Oh, we knew it was going to happen. She does consulting work, most recently for NASA."

Ron looked up at him, a bit in awe. "Really? NASA?"

His companion nodded, the pride in his eyes evident.

"Impressive," Ron said, setting the papers down. "So she got anything new coming up?"

Josh shrugged. "I can't even keep up with her. She's got so many patents going right now, I've taken to smiling and nodding, you know?"

Ron laughed a bit, although he was fairly certain that's not how a man should treat his wife. But, after all, he was the one who was lacking in the romance department, not Josh. "She's certainly a catch," he commented.

Josh grinned and nodded dumbly.

Although Ron was smiling, he couldn't help but feel that pang of jealousy deep in the pit of his stomach. There it burned and swelled, reaching up and out, encompassing his entire being. Josh was both everything he admired and everything he loathed; so perfect it made his teeth clench and his fists tighten. He had it all: the looks, the personality, the girl . . . but Ron was the boss, one of the wealthiest men in the world. And, after all, Josh was the closest thing he'd ever had to a true friend . . .

. . . and he realized that was just plain pathetic.

Ron cleared his throat, quickly changing the subject. "So, the ad campaign went rather well. Your ideas really are superb." He pressed his fingertips together, leaning back in his chair, taking on an authoritative air.

Josh raised an eyebrow at Ron's sudden change in demeanor. "Thank you . . . Ron. Or should I call you 'sir'?" Josh offered a nervous smile.

Ron sighed, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand. "Hey, sorry, man, didn't know what came over me."

"Nah, it's okay," Josh said with that all too perfect smile. No, it wasn't that sort of smile that you'd grow suspicious over, only a joyful, friendly gesture, but too ideal just the same. When Ron didn't respond, Josh leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "You look really stressed."

Ron stopped his incessant rubbing and opened his eyes, staring at Josh. "You have absolutely no idea."

Josh chuckled a bit, considering offering the two should go out for a night on the town or something, 'hanging out' as they'd both call it in their teenage years. Instead, he decided to get to the root of the problem. "Any particular client?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "This guy in England. Lord Fish or something."

Snickering at Ron's obvious mispronunciation of the gentleman's name, Josh pressed on. "What's his problem?"

"Something about an opposition to cheap Mexican fast food in his region."

Josh's brow furrowed. "If there's been so much opposition, then haven't sales been low anyways?"

Ron placed his palms on the desk before him. "That's the problem: there _is_ no opposition except _him_."

The other man raised an eyebrow. "Then why is it such a big deal? I mean, couldn't he just, I don't know, not eat there? And why do you have to do something about it anyways?"

Ron heaved a sigh. "He's a Lord, Josh. The last thing we need is British nobility on our backs." He punched angrily at the power button on his computer again with a grumble of 'damn machine' or something of the like. "What's even weirder was his explanation. I think I misheard him, but he said the restaurant was a bad influence on his monkey ninjas or something."

Josh snickered. "Monkey ninjas?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, only slightly weird." He looked around uneasily, looking for some new conversation topic that would satisfy them both.

Ron's phone rang. He smiled apologetically at Josh, and pressed the button from the intercom. Emerging from the little device was a scratchy voice, the kind with that sort of nasal quality that evoked the image of a thirty year old man still going through puberty. "Ron?" it squawked.

"Yes, Ned?" Ron answered politely.

"Is Mr. Mankey in there with you? It's muy importante he meets with Susan ASAP."

Upon hearing this, Josh began gathering his belongings. He truly was an artist at heart, as shown by the large portfolio he dragged with him everywhere. In fact, it was the same he'd had since high school. His wife (then girlfriend) had given it to him their first Christmas together. It was made of fine black leather, and, although the corners were worn and gray, the little message on the side was still visible: "Love you forever."

The portfolio itself reminded Ron that no matter how successful his career may be, he would never have what Josh had: a loving wife to come home to and a sense of belonging that had evaded him his entire life.

"I'll send him in," Ron replied, only the slightest hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Thanks," Ned's voice crackled. "And have a muy bueno day!"

Ron cringed at the words. He'd spent his entire high school career saying that same phrase to every customer as he completed their order. It had become such habit, he was certain he'd inadvertently offended many a Spanish speaker in his time. "You too, Ned."

Josh stood. "I guess I'd better be going," he said, heading toward the office door.

"Yeah, have a muy-" see! There, he'd almost done it. "Have a good day," he amended.

"You, too."

"Now if only my stupid computer would decide to work," he grumbled.

Grinning, Josh bent over and pressed an orange extension cord plug into a nearby outlet.

_Brrrrrrrrring!_

Josh smiled and left the office.

"That guy is too perfect," Ron moaned.

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_So, whatdya think?_


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not own Kim Possible or NaNoWriMo.

_A Note from the Authoress: Hey, everyone! Thanks for the reviews and the support, I really need it . . . I'm already behind! But I'll try to catch up this weekend. I'm glad everyone's enjoying it so far._

_I would like to thank MrDrP for his help. There have been some changes made, but not fixed in the first chapter. First off, everyone is 35 now, not 25. A bit more realistic, and will probably help characterisation later on. Josh has also been promoted! He's the head of marketing now, so keep that in mind. Ummm . . . I think that's all for now, but if I forgot something, please remind me!_

_MrDrP: Thanks again. And yes, Mrs. Mankey is who we all think she is, and Ron will be going all CEO at random intervals from now on. And what will Kim have to say about Josh? It's going to be a bit interesting, for sure.  
Harufu: This story is definitely going into some very odd places, and thank you for your kind review.  
surforst: Yup, Mrs. Mankey, all right. :) And my view on Josh? Well, you'll just have to wait and find out, but I think it's a little different from most around here.  
Kari: Thank you very much!  
GargoyleSama: I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you for your support.  
Doctor of Writing: Hold your horses:) She's coming, I promise._

_Oh, and everyone, right now, go out and read MrDrP's Nacho Boy and Dragon Lady. It's one of the best stories out there._

_And . . . on with the show!

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**Chapter Two**

When one works for a Mexican fast food chain, particularly in the upper echelons of such a chain, one tends to veer away from such meals at dinnertime, no matter how dedicated one may be. The case was no different for Ron Stoppable and Josh Mankey. Presently, they were laughing over several little boxes of Chinese takeout, lounging in Ron's office. They 'snarfed' the noodles and rice down with great expertise, chopsticks moving in skilled rhythm.

Slurping a noodle from his chin, Ron wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Hey," he said between bites. "Did you catch TV Trash Heap last night?" He smacked a little and dove into his next container.

"TV Trash Heap?" he questioned, a disbelieving tone evident in his voice. He politely took a bite of his mandarin chicken, grimacing at his companion's stereotypically masculine eating habits.

"Well, yeah," Ron said, slowing down his pace.

Josh's nose wrinkled in disgust. "You actually watch that stuff? How?"

Ron shrugged, fixing his gaze on his seemingly hypnotic box of chicken. "I don't know. My dad and I used to watch it together all the time, when I was a teenager, that is." He took a big bite. "We didn't get cable until I was in high school," he mumbled around the mass of food. "But once we did, we were never away from that TV for long."

"So you didn't do any sports or anything in school?" He moved his food around in its container, spearing a couple pieces with his chopsticks.

For a moment, it seemed he would respond in the affirmative, but for some reason he decided against it. "Nah," Ron said, checking to make sure he'd gotten every last piece of food. "I was a bit of a slacker to be quite honest." An uncomfortable silence followed. Clearing his throat, he started, "What about you? Do anything interesting in high school?"

Josh shrugged, taking a sip from his soda. "A lot of art, some community murals and stuff . . . met my wife."

Ron's eyebrow instantly rose. "Met your wife in high school?"

"Yeah," Josh said a bit nervously, as if, were he younger, he'd be bright red. "We were high school sweethearts."

"Really?" Ron's self esteem instantly lowered, a sense of inadequacy overwhelming him. His expression visibly wilted.

"Mhm," Josh smiled, apparently no longer interested in his takeout. "She was the captain of the cheerleading squad." Ron couldn't help but think that was a bit odd to bring up.

"You must be very proud?" he couldn't help but phrase it as a question.

Josh just smiled more broadly. "What about you? Anything new in the romance department?"

Choking on his food, Ron nearly sprayed his friend with a grotesque mixture of Chinese sauces. "Yeah," he said, wiping at his mouth, regaining his composure. "Right."

"Do you even get out these days?" Josh said in an almost accusing tone. "You look like you need a break."

"I don't have time for a break," Ron said, taking on a more authoritative tone. He took a swig of his soda.

"Sure you do!" His eyes sparked with a sort of idea. "Aren't you taking one right now?"

He had a point. "Well, yes, but . . ."

"Exactly!" Ron just gave him a confused look. "Why don't you come over for dinner some time? Just the three of us."

Ron was about to protest when Josh cut him off, "My wife's been dying to meet you."

He wasn't sure how to deny him. After all, it was rather rude to decline such an invitation, and it was silly to have not met his best friend's family. He sighed, "All right. You win."

Josh smiled, "Thanks, man."

Yes, Josh Mankey was Ron Stoppable's best friend.

--

Ron rolled his eyes at the newspaper before him. There on the front page was a picture of the one and only Montgomery Fiske, a little brown monkey cradled in his arms. The article was some publicity stunt about the Lord's most recent studies on the cognitive development of some species of monkey.

It was bad enough that the man was trying to use his celebrity status against the Bueno Nacho Corporation, but he just had to be involved with _monkeys_. Monkeys! Of all the things he could study, he just had to choose monkeys. They always made Ron shiver, ever since that fateful summer at Camp Wannaweep (which had closed after Ron had sued them for health violations; even as a kid he knew there must be something illegal about making a camper bunk with the simian mascot). The study was something about a monkey's natural instinct to fight with a sort of martial arts influence . . . or rather that Tai Shing Pek Kwar was inspired by their natural combat styles, and that with proper instruction they can actually master Monkey Kung Fu.

So that's what he meant about his 'monkey ninjas'.

He crumpled the paper into a little ball and threw it towards the wastebasket, off of which it bounced and fell to the floor.

"Damn," he cursed.

There was a knock at the door. He looked up. "Yes?"

The door swung open to reveal Josh Mankey, a broad smile on his face. Over the past two weeks, the pair had gone back and forth on plans for their little get-together. Ron assured Josh (although it was one of those promises that friends make simply for the sake of friendship) that he still wanted to do it, and that he was just busy. He finally decided he'd just avoid it as long as possible, and then once it was over, it'd be over. It wasn't anything against Josh, of course, just that a happy marriage (particularly one resulting from a high school relationship) was the last thing he needed for his self esteem.

But at the moment, his guard was down.

"Hey, man, whatcha doing tonight?" Josh asked, getting straight to the point.

"Nothing," Ron grumbled, still considering the ongoing Fiske problem.

"Good, we'll be expecting you at about six."

Ron's eyes widened and his jaw stood agape. He'd really not been expecting that, not at all. He was so used to giving commands that receiving them was always a bit unexpected, especially when that was entirely the point. But this was something he could not deny Josh. This was not an order from employee to boss, which, naturally, he'd instantly deny and reprimand, but a request from one friend to another.

Josh really wasn't trying to be insistent after all, he was just trying to do his employer a favor, and, more importantly, he was concerned for his friend. In all honesty, despite his former popularity in school and now around the office, he didn't have many close friends; only his wife. He knew Ron's past, and he knew socializing was not his favorite thing, but something he needed. He was stressed and overworked, and wouldn't give himself a vacation. Even when they decided to grab some dinner after work, it was always takeout or pizza in Ron's office. He needed to get out of that building and have some healthy, home cooking. Not that his poor choice in meals was having a negative affect on his appearance; quite the contrary, it took Josh asking if he wanted something to get him to eat anything at all. The man was practically wasting away.

As of recently, Josh was convinced that should he look up 'workaholic' in the dictionary, it would read simply 'Ron Stoppable'.

Ron sighed in defeat. "All right, all right. Where do you live again?"

Josh grinned and started jotting down directions on a sticky note. "Anything in particular you'd like for dinner?"

"Well, what can your wife cook?" Ron asked, recalling his favorite dishes from childhood (which more often than not involved an excessive amount of cheese).

Josh looked up, chuckling. "Nothing. Nothing at all, but I can cook whatever you want." Ron couldn't help but laugh at the remark. From all of Josh's bragging about his wife, he thought she could do anything . . . but apparently anything did not involve cooking.

"Oh, whatever's fine, then."

After a bit of small talk, Josh left. Certain he was entirely alone, and that the various blinds were closed and the door locked; Ron slid a slender key into the lock of the bottom drawer of his desk. The key turned with little resistance, and he pulled gently on the handle. What he kept in this drawer was different from the antiquities that other wealthy businessmen collected, and not just because he kept it hidden from public view.

He reached inside and withdrew a little silk pouch, just larger than the palm of his hand. The embroidery was fine, and it still smelled like the little shop in which he'd bought it nearly twenty years ago. But more important than the superficial case was what it held. True, the silk brocade was old, but its contents were of ancient origin.

He pulled the drawstring loose and turned it upside down, a little fleck of silver no longer than three inches falling to his open palm. He cast the case aside, and, almost instantly, his eyes began to glow a light blue, and soon that same blue energy was coursing through his veins, pounding within him. It slipped up into his hand and began to encompass the silver twig. It shook, only slightly at first, but then growing in its fury as it began to expand and shift forms. In a mere matter of seconds, what had once been a needle became an ancient katana, the grip settled familiarly in his hand.

The blue fuzz still surrounding him, he stared past the lovely blade, and to the crumpled newspaper lying on the floor by the trashcan. Those eyes, so dark and full of lies, stared back at him from their crunched and torn medium, almost challenging him. "Stop trying to play me, Fiske," he seethed. "You're not getting away with anything. Not as long as I'm around . . . and believe me, I can stop you."

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_Please, tell me what you think!_


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: Don't own KP

_A Note from the Authoress: Okay, I'm slowly but surely catching up to where I should be in my word count. I'm only one day behind as of the end of this chapter. Stayed up last night to finish this . . . I think you'll be a bit surprised at how I chose to approach this chapter, and the lack of detail it goes into . . . but whatever. Just another chapter of NaNo drivel._

_Anyways, enjoy!_

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**Chapter Three**

The Mankeys lived in a relatively large house on the outskirts of Middleton, Colorado. It wasn't as big as his own by any means, and from what he knew of Mrs. Mankey's work, and how much he paid Josh, they could certainly afford more. But it was that kind of house: the sort that says 'we can afford more than this'. It was well maintained, with a little flower garden in the front yard.

He'd always thought it rather odd that Josh had no children, or at least he assumed he didn't have any. He'd never mentioned anything of the sort, and now, looking at the house, saw no tree house or toys littering the yard. The only thing even close was the little swing hanging from a tree in the front yard. There were no children.

He could just imagine Josh pushing his wife on that swing, long hours of summer romance, free of the pressures of work and worries of what others think. He envied Josh for that, for being able to live like that, without fear and loneliness; to be loved.

He made his way up the steps, hands in his pockets. He was nervous, though he wasn't entirely sure why. After all, it was just Josh . . . and his wife. His _wife_; his high school sweetheart. That was something he'd never had, something in his life he'd missed, and he'd never be able to regain.

He rang the doorbell.

There was a little scuffling from inside, and then the door opened.

The woman on the other side smiled at him, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear. Her eyes were green and youthful, although he assumed she was the same age as Josh, and thus, himself as well. "Hi," she greeted, offering her hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Hi," he grinned, shaking her hand, a bit awestruck. "It'sa pleasureto meet you, too, Mrs. Mankey."

She blushed. "Actually, it's Ms. Possible."

He gave her a confused look, still holding onto her hand. She didn't seem to be complaining.

"I . . . errr . . . I kept my maiden name. Professional reasons." She tightened her grip on his hand. "You can call me Kim, though, if you'd like."

His goofy grin narrowed as he remembered that this woman was off limits, an untouchable. She was his best friend's wife. "Call me Ron," he said softly, offering a genuine, friendly smile.

"Ron," she repeated, as if testing the word on her tongue.

Josh appeared behind her and Ron instantly released her hand. "Hey, man," he said, a little disappointed at losing the contact. But then even that took second place to the fact that Josh was wearing a pink frilly apron. He snickered. After all, even he didn't wear that when he cooked. "Nice apron, Josh. Or is it a pinafore?"

Josh responded by prodding him with the handle of a wooden spoon, before shaking his hand and patting his back in that common best friend manner. They quickly made their way inside and Kim took his jacket before leading him into the dining room.

"Just putting on some finishing touches!" Josh called from the kitchen.

Ron politely pulled out a chair for Kim, nudging it in for her after she was seated. "Thank you," she said quietly.

He simply smiled and took the seat next to her. He stole a few glances at her, simultaneously wondering what was taking Josh so long, and hoping he'd never return. "So," he began, attempting to break the uncomfortable silence that was quickly falling on them. "Josh tells me you're quite accomplished. What exactly do you do?"

She seemed to almost consider the question for a moment. "A little of this, a little of that." She grinned.

He smiled back at her. "You're weird."

"So are you," she countered, then lowered her voice to a bare whisper. "But I like you."

They began laughing quietly. She blushed.

Josh entered, backing his way through the kitchen door, several dishes balanced in his arms. He set them down on the table, took his seat, and the long awaited dinner finally began.

Ron was trying his best to mind his manners throughout dinner, but occasionally Josh caught him with a big glob of cheese hanging off the side of his mouth. He'd sheepishly dab at it with his napkin, and Kim would simply laugh or make some lighthearted comment on males and their eating habits, among other stereotypes that one of the two men in her presence managed to fit.

He learned in time about their families. Josh was an only child, and his parents and Kim's family still lived in their hometown. Josh's parents had retired early; Ron didn't catch what from. He then learned that both of Kim's parents had PhDs, her father in astrophysics and her mom in neurology. Her twin brothers were designing weaponry for the military; something they were apparently skilled at (which Josh assured was true, as he had been their test subject many a time in their youth) and enjoyed doing (again, torturing any boy that came near their sister).

They seemed like good, interesting people. He wanted to meet them one day, Ron thought.

Ron had thought that because he got along all right with Josh, that he could instantly be considered his best friend. But now he was realizing that this was not the case. He and Josh were different, there was no denying it. Ron had what were in high school considered 'dorky' interests without the natural intelligence to balance them out, and a habit of making a fool of himself, while Josh was cool, calm, collected . . . everything he wasn't. Not that Mrs. Mankey – Kim – was much different from her husband in that respect, but she seemed to have a kindness about her that Josh didn't.

Not that Josh wasn't kind, of course, but he showed it in a different way. He had a feeling that Josh wouldn't have gotten within ten feet of him before he'd managed to climb the ladder to success, meanwhile Kim seemed the type who was genuinely charmed by his lack of wit, that compatibility that would have drawn them together and that friendliness that would have held them.

Not that there would have ever been any romantic relations between them; it was not that sort of compatibility. As Josh had said, she'd been at the top of what he referred to as 'the food chain', and he belonged to the bottom of that same food chain. The two ends were never to meet, as it was against what he called 'the rules'. But, he imagined, should they have met before the rules or the food chain came into effect (in other words, some time before puberty), they would have been the best of friends, inseparable at the least.

He imagined he'd seen it in her eyes, too, when she'd laugh over her glass of wine and look at him, when she listened intently to his stories of the major issues going on in the Bueno Nacho world. He felt this undeniable urge to know her, to be her friend, if only to have another in his greedy quest for some semblance of a social life.

But he could not deny his attraction to her, the way he wondered, what would it be like to kiss her? To just reach over and take her hand as Josh did so often? To touch her hair? To take her to bed with him? No, it wasn't some perverted desire to sleep with his best friend's wife, but a personal attraction to this woman whom he'd only just met, but felt he'd known forever.

Presently, Josh reached over and clasped his hand with his wife's, bending toward her to whisper something in her ear before planting a gentle kiss on it. Ron smiled sadly at them, wondering how lovers know when and what to do to please one another. He felt his ineptitude like a barrier between him and the happiness the Mankeys shared. He'd never find love like that; he couldn't see himself with anyone like that.

"So, Ron," Kim asked with a smile. "Do you travel much? I'm sure your career must take you to lots of exciting places."

"Sometimes. But I don't get to enjoy it much," he admitted.

"You never get to enjoy anything," quipped Josh.

"Umm, excuse me," Ron began in mock offense. "I'm enjoying this wonderful meal right now, with you wonderful people."

They all laughed.

"Then what's your favorite place to visit?" asked a curious Kim.

"Japan," Ron replied instantly.

"Really?" Josh said while pouring his wife another glass of wine. "You've never mentioned going there."

"I don't get to a lot," Ron admitted, a morose quality overcoming his previously chipper demeanor. "But I first went there when I was in high school, and I loved it."

"Family vacation?" Kim supplied.

Ron shook his head, downing his wine. "Foreign exchange student."

"Ooh, fun," Kim cooed.

The rest of the night was filled with conversation and laughter, and with every passing moment, Ron became more attached to the woman known as Kim Possible. She was beautiful, true, but more than that, he respected her for her intelligence and personality. When he'd said she was weird, he wasn't entirely wrong, but he realized it was a good thing; she was an amazing person.

Around ten, the phone rang, and Josh had to take it (one of his underlings was treading the line of being fired, if only he'd known the CEO was just a few feet away!). When the call lasted longer than expected, Kim showed Ron to the door. "I apologize for my husband," she said.

"Oh, it's no big deal," Ron replied.

Kim smiled, then said softly, "It was very nice meeting you."

"The pleasure was all mine," he responded, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

"We should . . . talk some more sometime," she suggested.

He smiled. "I'd like that." He shook her hand and began heading down the steps.

"Goodnight, Ron," she called out to him.

"Goodnight, Kim."

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_Please, review!_


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: Don't own KP.

_A Note from the Authoress: Thanks everyone for all your support! And isn't everyone getting annoyed with the email alerts being down? Hmm . . . anyways. For any of you wondering about the MMP and the Lotus Blade, this chapter's for you. For the record, I'm not a Ron/Yori shipper at heart, but this was rather necessary . . . story will be KR, promise!_

_Harufu: Hope this will help you out a bit. Thanks for the review!  
GargoyleSama: Yes . . . the role it's going to play is . . . interesting to say the least. It most certainly causes the plot to happen, but it isn't actually the plot, so I'll be interested to see what you think of it. Thank you! I'm really glad someone liked that chapter; very key in the story ;) And the other villains . . . ? You'll just have to wait and see. :)_

_Enjoy, everyone!_

**

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Chapter Four**

When Ron Stoppable was fifteen years old, he was randomly chosen to take part in a foreign exchange program with a school in Yamanouchi, Japan. At the time, he had thought it rather silly and pointless, as he didn't care a thing about his grades (proving that the selection was, indeed, truly random), and had never shown any interest in traveling to Japan. But, after all, the school was picking up his tab, and he might as well get out a little.

When he got off the airplane, he immediately noticed a Japanese girl, about his own age, in one of those sailor outfits that they wore as uniforms, holding a sign that said "RON STOPPABLE." He approached her, prepared to pantomime his way through this meeting, only to hear a thick accent greet, "Ron Stoppable? I am Yori, of the Yamanouchi School. It will be my honor to assist you this week."

They hit it off right from the start.

Ron had thought he'd finally found a friend.

If only he'd known what was in store for them.

They took a taxi from the airport, which dropped them off at the base of an impressively tall mountain. The driver asked for no tip. After much confusion on Ron's part, Yori managed to explain that the school was on the peak of the mountain and that 'it would be their honor to walk'. He really didn't see the honor in arriving to his first day at a new school all sweaty and dirty, but a few hours alone with a pretty girl? He could handle that.

Three hours and about a thousand complaints later, they arrived at a large rope bridge, leading to a monastery hidden in the peak of the mountain. As they crossed, whatever suspicions Ron had grew, for, on the roofs of the various buildings of the school, people in ninja garb, presumably students, leapt about, performing various styles of kung fu.

He instantly knew he belonged nowhere near here.

The master of the school approached them, a short, old man cloaked in red. He told them a story, a story of how Toshimuru, the founder of the Yamanouchi School, was the master of something known as Mystical Monkey Power. Ron immediately began to laugh, thinking it was all one big joke, but, when the other students held in their eyes that sort of belief you just didn't question, he thought of it, although still skeptically, as something that could be classified only as 'sick and wrong'.

From the story, Ron learned that Toshimuru had carved the monastery from the mountain using only a single sword known as the Lotus Blade that operated on this same principle of Mystical Monkey Power. This man was also a master of Tai Shing Pek Kwar, Monkey Kung Fu. Ron asked, "Then why did you bring me here?"

And Sensei replied, "The legends wished for it to be so."

And so it was.

Ron did not adapt particularly well to the life of a ninja; waking up before sunrise was not something he was used to at all, and the grueling physical courses made him yearn for algebra class. However, he made it through fairly well thanks to Yori, who helped him in everything he did.

He still wondered if, perhaps, she had had a thing for American boys, because he often wondered if she were crushing on him.

He lost all his baby fat in that week; he never ate. Even getting lunch was a test, and one Yori couldn't help him with as much as he'd like. Never mind every meal consisted of sushi (why, he'd never know), and for sure it had an odd taste that he'd never really acquire.

In the last two days of his week there, the alarm rang at what he was sure had to be two in the morning. He ran outside. The students were looking around, lost and confused, unsure of how to handle whatever situation was before them. Their training had covered battle and strategy, but not the possibility that something like this would actually happen. No, they were prepared to become martial arts instructors, or they would spend their entire lives on this mountain.

He looked around for Yori.

He couldn't find her.

Sensei came forward and informed the student body that the Lotus Blade had been stolen. The assembly gasped, and nervous whispers echoed through the courtyard. The old master remained silent, unmoving for a moment, and the students sensed he had more to say, and patiently awaited whatever that was. He took a deep breath and said the one thing Ron dreaded; Yori had been kidnapped.

Instantly, Ron was dressing for battle. True, he'd only had five days of martial arts training in his entire life, but his only friend was in trouble, and he wasn't about to let anything happen to her.

He made his way through the mountainous region, following any and all signs of a struggle. He called her name until his voice had left him, marching through snow, hopeless of finding her or his way back ever again.

Eventually, he stumbled across, mostly obscured by the intense snow, what appeared to be a small cave. He sought refuge from the storm within it, hoping to wait it out before continuing in his quest. He might not have been particularly intelligent, but he knew very well that he would be of no worth to Yamanouchi, or Yori, frostbitten or dead.

Inside, he saw the remains of a campfire, fresh. But there was no sign of anyone on the outside. Curious, he ventured further in, and found a little trap door at the back of the cave, which he was able to open using some of the sticks that had survived the abandoned campfire. He hauled the rock open, and began making his way down the steep steps, careful to remain as quiet as possible, thinking that, perhaps, he had just stumbled upon what he'd been looking for the entire time.

And for the first time in his life, Ron Stoppable was right.

What he saw there was a lavishly decorated room, full of antiquities and lit by several torches. However, it was uninhabited. He noticed there were four jade monkey statues on little podiums, as if in some form of tradition. Too lost in exploring the room's appearance, he wasn't aware one step was missing, and tumbled down, right into the direct center of the podiums.

Almost right away, a blue, fuzzy light shot from each monkey, and to him, bathing him in the warm glow. He was lifted off his feet, the energy coursing through his veins and taking residence there, adding to him and assimilating into his very being. He felt his eyes mist over, only vaguely able to recall the far door of the room creaking open.

He felt himself falling into shadow.

When he awoke, he was bound to a beam in a room he'd never seen before, one he assumed was just beyond the one he'd been in earlier. "Yori?" he whispered, his voice still hoarse and barely audible.

Somewhere nearby, a door slammed. He wearily turned his head to see a familiar face, that of that archaeologist he'd been forced to do a report on for history, Lord Montgomery Fiske. Oddly, though, he was dressed similarly to Ron himself. He might not have been a star pupil, but he thought he would've known if anywhere had mentioned Lord Fiske had any experience in martial arts.

"Well, now," he said, his British accent taunting Ron's ears. "I see you're awake."

Ron simply glared, and swallowed, trying to regain his voice.

"Did you sleep well?" His voice was laced with venom. "I would hope so, after you _stole_ my Mystical Monkey Power from me!"

The bantering continued for some time, one sided as it was. Ron, bound and trying to regain his sanity and energy, took it, not entirely listening to the man's rants, finding them pointless and absurd. It would be some time before he remembered what had actually happened that allowed him to have Mystical Monkey Power, and that he would be forced to choose what he was going to do with it.

He thought of the story, the one Sensei had told him the day of his arrival, of Toshimuru and the Lotus Blade. He remembered the old master showing him the sword itself, resting in a case padded with velvet, displayed in the main building of the school. There was an alarm, no doubt, and this was proven when Lord Fiske had broken into the school to retrieve it.

But why break into a secret ninja school?

That's what the man was explaining presently, how he believed the legends that Mystical Monkey Power existed, and that it can be harnessed, but one cannot truly be the master without one thing: the Lotus Blade.

He felt something hit the palm of his hand and he held on . . . it felt like a thick needle, worn but still sharp, no longer than three inches.

"Yori," he managed to whisper, his voice cracking. He could sure use some water right now.

The elder man did not answer, but simply moved aside to reveal an occupied mat, the form of his first and only friend settled comfortably on top, a light blanket draped over her. But, as his relieved gaze remained resting on her, his entire body began to tremble; he realized her small chest was not moving up and down in the gentle breathing of sleep.

His despair quickly formed into fury, and that same blue glow emanated from his body, throbbing as he burst free of his bonds, the little pin in his right hand shooting outward, taking on the form of a katana, but he did not attack; Lord Fiske was nowhere to be seen. And so, he knelt by Yori's side, his trembling hand reaching out to take her own, cold within his grasp.

Maybe she'd loved him, and maybe she'd not, but she'd been the first person he'd ever, _ever_ cared for, and he'd never forget her friendship. But, he realized, he'd never be able to tell anyone about her, for, as far as the rest of the world was concerned, she never existed, nor did the school they attended together, or their brief alliance. Alone, he simply broke down and cried.

Yes, Ron Stoppable changed that day.

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_Please, review!_


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: Don't own KP

_A Note from the Authoress: Here we are, another bad chapter. I really apologize for the quality of this fic, but after all, it's NaNo, meaning Quantity > Quality. Thanks everyone for sticking with me!_

_surforst: Yup, poor Josh, and I'm sure Ron's mind was in the gutter, too. ;) Kim does want to rearrange Ron's dishes, as we'll soon see. Oh, I love Yori! That's why I put her in . . . even if she got killed. And yup, you get some Kim in this chapter.  
swiglo3000: Thanks for your review, I'm glad you're enjoying!  
Harufu: We'll learn about Yori in time, and I'm glad you enjoyed the changes.  
3VAD127: Thank you so much!  
MrDrP: We'll learn about the problems in Mankeyville in this chapter, well, one of them, that is. And yup, the affair signals are all over the place. Story's moving rather fast, but to cover the plot in a month, it's much needed. And KP's job? Well, I'll be dropping hints here and there, you might get it before the end. And look! You're a few steps ahead of me! Don't worry, your questions will be answered in time. I just found where I finished to be the most appropriate ending for the chapter._

_Well, enjoy!_

**

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**Chapter Five**

Ron sat at his desk, reading through some paperwork, although each word had to be read three times before it actually made it to his brain for some form of processing; he was so easily distracted. It had been a week since he'd had dinner at the Mankeys, and, pleasant as it was, he couldn't help but be even more envious of Josh than he was before. His wife was perfect . . . or at least he thought so. Their marriage seemed happy, proving to him that although he may be Josh's business superior, he was way behind in all the ways that matter.

The phone rang; Ron pressed the button for the intercom. "Ron?" came the familiar, scratchy voice of Ned.

"Yeah?" Ron replied tiredly. He tossed his pen to the other side of his desk.

"There's a Ms. Possible here to see you. Would you like me to send her in?"

He immediately perked up, cleaning his papers up to make his desk (and himself) more presentable. "Yes . . . err . . . yes, send her in."

The intercom disconnected, and he set about straightening his tie. A few seconds later, his office door opened, and, as expected, there stood Josh's wife, Kim Possible.

"Hi," he greeted, probably a bit too excited.

She smiled. "Hi." An uncomfortable silence soon settled in, until Ron cleared his throat and Kim began, "You seemed to like the Alfredo sauce last week, so I . . . err . . . I didn't really have anything to do so I . . . um . . . wrote it out for you." She procured a little recipe card from her purse and held it out to him.

He stood, stumbling around his desk to meet her, retrieving the card and placing it on a safe spot by his computer. "Thanks," he said.

Another uncomfortable silence.

"Well," Ron ventured. "I'm sorry, but Josh is stuck in a meeting right now, I think." It was the truth, too, but, to do what he was about to do, he would've said it either way. "And . . . well, it's about time for my lunch break."

"Oh," Kim wilted.

"And I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me?" He was scratching the back of his neck, that nervous habit that had plagued him since high school.

She shone a bright smile at him. "I'd like that."

"Great," he smiled back, considering the restaurants in the area, fast food or otherwise. "What are you in the mood for?"

She shrugged. "What's good around here?"

He grinned that goofy grin she remembered from dinner. "Well, there's always Bueno Nacho." He wiggled an eyebrow at her.

She laughed, making a disgusted face. "No offense, but I think I've had more than enough over the past several years."

"Or," he amended, trying his best to sound charming. "There's a nice little café just down the street."

"Sounds great."

And with that, they headed off to the parking lot. Much to Ron's surprise, as they left the elevator she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. "Kim?" he asked upon feeling the gentle pressure on his elbow.

"Hmm?" she asked, not looking at him.

"Not to sound rude, but . . . what are you doing?" He glanced to her hand comfortably rested on his arm.

"What?" She followed his gaze. "Oh!" she squeaked, withdrawing her hand immediately, blood quickly rising to the surface of her cheeks. "I'm sorry. It's a habit, I guess."

"Habit?" he asked, digging around in his pocket for his keys. "You and Josh go to a lot of fancy things like that?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Just out of high school he had lots of exhibits and things, and I had to be his eye candy." Still blushing she smiled at him.

"Eye candy?" He pretended to consider this for a moment, stroking his clean-shaven chin. "You?" He lowered his hand. "Yeah, I can see that." He offered her a charming and only slightly flirty grin.

She blushed. "Why thank you."

They both laughed, amused and having fun acting like teenagers again. Then Ron stopped. His face suddenly lost all mirth. "_Please_ don't tell Josh I said that."

She snickered. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"No, really," he pressed on. "I'm serious. I'm not about to lose the only friend I've had since . . ." he thought of Yori, and his promises to Sensei. "Ever."

"He's not your only friend," Kim pointed out, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ron just gave her a questioning look.

"Well, I'm your friend."

He wasn't quite sure how to respond.

"That is," her voice sounded almost dejected. "If you want me to be." She gave him a small smile that told him everything: she was lonely. Despite what Josh had told him about how she was in high school, she was terribly and completely lonely. Of course Josh didn't notice it; he was always at work, and Kim's happiness when he was with her, that reprieve from the loneliness she must endure, was probably misinterpreted as enduring, devoted love.

"That would be . . . great," he answered, smiling. He pressed the little button on his keychain, and the doors to his fancy convertible unlocked. He went around to the passenger side and held the door open. "After you." She slid in and sat delicately on the leather seat, thanking him and putting on her seatbelt.

Soon, he was seated beside her, and they were en route to the restaurant.

They were seated inside, near a window. The room smelt of fresh bread and chocolate, a delightful combination, and Kim couldn't help but sigh happily at the sensations. Ron smiled across the table at her.

"Having a good time?" he asked, quite nervous being in this situation, what appeared to be a date with his best friend's wife. He folded his hands on the edge of the table, if anything to resist reaching across and squeezing her fingers with his own, just like the way Josh did at dinner.

"Mhm," she hummed, taking a sip of her water, anxiously awaiting her meal. "You?"

"Yeah," Ron confessed. "I don't get out much. This is nice for a change."

"Josh mentioned that," she commented. "He also says he's afraid you're going to waste away one of these days. Says he's always reminding you to get some food in your system."

Ron chuckled. "Yeah, sorry I'm taking him away from you so much."

A pained look seemed to cross her features. "It's all right. Not a whole lot different." Ron gave her a confused look. "Oh, no, it's not like that. We love each other. Dearly." She lapsed into thought for a moment, unsure of how and if she should say this. It was something very few people knew: Josh's family, her family, her friend Monique from high school, a few others . . . "Just, after what happened, things have been different between Josh and I . . . uninterested, almost."

Ron's expression only grew in confusion. "This might be a little personal, but . . . what happened?"

Kim sighed, and began wringing her cloth napkin within her hands. "It was a long time ago," she wouldn't look at him, her eyes focusing on the work her fingers were currently occupied with. "We . . . we got married when we were nineteen. I know, I know, we were very young, but . . . we turned out all right, didn't we?"

Ron began to nod, but she cut him off from even doing that.

"Well, we would have, I suppose." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, deep in thought. "When we were twenty, I found out that I was pregnant." She knew exactly what he was thinking; after all, they had no children. It was an honest confusion. "We were so happy," she gushed. "I wasn't planning on being a mother so soon, and Josh wasn't planning on it either, but we were happy nonetheless. We were all ready for it, too. And then . . . when I was at work . . ." her voice broke, and, either way, she had no way to express this to him. No description could explain her pain. "There was a lot of blood," she said simply. "I was fine, but . . . the baby didn't make it, and worse, the doctors said there'd never be a chance for me to have children again."

Ron stepped outside his box in that moment, understanding emotional pain, although his differed greatly from hers, he felt the need to empathize with her, to reach out and touch her hand. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

She smiled sadly. "It's not your fault."

"It was a sort of commiserating 'sorry'," he countered.

When he was about to withdraw his hand, she held on fast. "It really hurt Josh," she said. "I suppose he knows there's no reason to blame me, but now I'm . . . somewhat inadequate."

Ron was about to protest, but she cut him off.

"No, Ron. I am." She looked at him, her gaze firm but kind. "When . . ." she lowered her voice to a whisper, "when Josh and I made love, I could tell that he . . . that he relished in the thought that our love could be productive. You know he's a man that loves to create . . . and after we lost the baby, and that became an impossibility . . . things happened."

Ron asked no more, after all, she'd already told him more than he ever expected, or wanted for that matter, to hear. He simply squeezed her hand.

The waitress came with their meals, and in setting Kim's place before her, managed to knock her purse over, little things spilling out across the table. All three jumped to help pick up the items, but Kim snapped something very unkind at the waitress and began stuffing things back in the bag, seemingly trying to conceal its contents. When Ron reached for a tube of lipstick she batted his hand away.

It was all right that she was anal like that.

But he couldn't help but notice that there was something black and shiny in the bottom of her purse.

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_Please, review!_


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: Don't own KP.

_A Note from the Authoress: Okay, here's another terrible chapter for you! Enjoy!_

_swiglo3000: Yeah, sad, huh? Glad you like, though!  
MrDrP: Yup, many twists, and yeah, I'm glad it's a fairly realistic problem for them. Hope you like the cliffie at the end of this chapter, too.  
Harufu: It is not what you think, I'm fairly certain ;)  
surforst: Naughty! ;) Yeah, Kim's way drawn to Ron, we'll see particularly why a bit later. And as for how they hook up . . . ? You'll have to wait and see.  
IndrediRaider8: You're . . . close, I think, but don't ruin it for everyone. ;) Yeah, she'll get more plausible as we go. This one's really contrived, but real, I think. When I planned this, I planned their meetings, but not why their meetings take place. Not very smart of me, huh? Anyways, thanks for the review!  
MtnRon: I'm glad you like my Josh. I'm not particularly fond of him, but I'm not going to bash him. Thanks for the review!  
GargoyleSama:Ahahahaha, have to think? Wait until the end. ;)  
3VAD127: Thanks!_

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**Chapter Six**

The phone of the Mankey residence rang. "I'll get it!" Josh called, stopping Kim in the middle of her quest for the receiver. She sat back on the couch, looking over her little planner.

"Oh, hi, Dad," Josh spoke into the phone.

Kim looked up at him and smiled, but her expression quickly wilted when she saw Josh's brow furrow in worry.

"Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can . . . thanks, Dad . . . send everyone my love."

He hung up.

"Josh? Honey? What's wrong?" She closed the small book, setting it down on the coffee table.

He was rubbing his temples with his fingertips. "My mom's in the hospital . . . she . . . she had a heart attack."

"Oh, sweetie," she soothed, taking him into her arms, rubbing his back consolingly. "I'm so sorry. When are we leaving?" Her voice held a bit of remorse that, terrible as it was, was not for Mrs. Mankey. It was for Ron.

"No, no," he said, still stunned. "You stay here; you've got work to do." Apparently he'd entirely forgotten about dinner with Ron that night.

"Are you sure?" She pulled back and looked at him.

He nodded.

"I love you," she said firmly.

"I love you, too," he replied, placing a light peck on her cheek.

--

Ron bustled around his kitchen, making sure the food was just so. He wanted to repay the Mankeys' kindness, and so he invited them both over for dinner at his house. He was fixing his own special recipe chicken.

He lived in a large house, just outside Middleton, and, although it was way too much for one person, he did not have a staff who worked there, only a cleaning crew who came weekly to keep the unused rooms dusted and swept, and to clean up any messes he might have made.

He always prided himself in being a good cook, and he thought now that it was a way in which he could impress his new friend. Sure, she was married to his best friend, but that didn't make impressing her any less thrilling. He hummed the tune to a song he'd heard once, one that he never understood, but decided was pretty enough. He murmur sang, "Could it be suddenly I'm falling for you? Could it be you were right here be-"

He was cut off by the sound of the phone ringing.

He ran into the dining room, placing the nice dishes on the table, making sure the table was set appropriately.

He promptly grabbed the cordless and cradled it between his shoulder and ear. "Stoppable residence," he answered, fixing the silverware so as to make it more presentable.

It was Kim's voice. "Uh, hi, Ron?"

"Kim?" he asked, and when she made no objection, continued, "You and Josh ready for a bon-diggity meal on the Ronster?"

She couldn't help but laugh at his terminology. "Uhh, yeah, sorry, but I don't think we're going to be able to make it tonight."

Ron stopped his tinkering, his face drooping. "Oh . . . all right."

"I'm so sorry, but . . . well, Josh's mom had a heart attack."

"Oh, that's terrible . . . is there anything I can do?" Ron pulled out one of the dining room chairs and sat down, leaning his elbow on the table.

"No, no, it's fine," she assured.

"So when are you guys leaving?" he asked, pulling out his palm pilot to deal with Josh's meetings and other things, truly feeling sorry for the poor guy.

"Oh," Kim said. "Josh left about an hour ago."

"You're not going?" Ron asked, confused.

"No, they said it wasn't too serious, but Josh is her only child, he should be there . . . and to be quite honest, she doesn't particularly like me."

"Not like you?" he questioned, incredulous. "Don't see how that's possible." He had a feeling she was blushing. "So you're just staying home tonight?"

"Yeah, takeout," she answered casually.

"Josh meant it when he said you don't cook much, huh?"

She laughed. "Yeah, if I blew up the kitchen again, I'm sure he'd be rather upset."

He chuckled, then offered, "Well, I've already got some food ready over here. You're welcome to join me, if you'd like." He smiled, adding, "Wouldn't want to ruin your figure with that fattening takeout, now would you?"

"That'd be great."

--

When he opened the door, he was greeted with Kim's smiling face.

"Hi!" she greeted, smiling at him.

"Hey," he responded, "A little overdressed, aren't we?" He gestured to her ensemble then back to his own: slacks and a sweater. He couldn't help but smile, though. She was dressed very, _very_ nicely tonight, wearing a dress that, although not 'slutty' by any means, showed off a considerable amount of thigh and just enough cleavage to keep him interested. If she didn't happen to be his best friend's wife, he would have thought she was trying to seduce him.

She shrugged. "Didn't bother to change." He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "I'd been getting ready when my father-in-law called."

Ron nodded, opening the door a bit wider for her to come in. "Like I said, I'm really sorry."

She shrugged. "And like I said, no big."

"No big? A heart attack is no big?" There was a twinkle in his eye as he led her to the dining room.

"When it's your mother-in-law?" she pressed on, her cheeks red from embarrassment.

"You are terrible!" he mocked, meanwhile pulling out her chair for her.

Dinner went extremely well, as far as either party was concerned. They had a good time sharing stories from their pasts, both laughing at each others' past stupidity. Kim even related how her first kiss had been a total wash, because her partner (the one and only Walter Nelson) had braces, and, well, so did she. It didn't take an explanation for Ron to understand and be tearing up with laughter.

She'd smack him playfully whenever he did something like that, laughing at her, that is, but she found it tremendously amusing that stories that, to her, had lost all their humor managed to put him into fits of laughter before she even got to the end.

They'd had some nice wine with dinner, like at the Mankeys' but Ron noticed something he hadn't before: she didn't hold it particularly well. She was a mess of giggles and bouncy girly-ness by the end of dinner, and he knew very well she shouldn't drive home like this.

He also knew she probably wouldn't believe him if he told her so.

So he offered that they watch a movie, after all, he had a very comfortable couch and a nice entertainment system. She agreed, and he allowed her to choose a DVD from his bookshelf. He'd hoped she'd choose something good, something along the lines of the Fearless Ferret, or maybe even Snowman Hank, but no, it was even better, she'd chosen a movie sequel of a videogame. "Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children," he said, taking the case from her. "Good choice."

She made her way over to the couch, perching on the far end. "I've never seen it and it looks pretty good."

A few minutes of small talk and two arguments with the DVD player later, he was sitting at the opposite end of the couch from her, intently watching the opening sequences of the film.

A little over an hour later, Ron was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, watching intently as Cloud battled Sephiroth for the final time. He'd memorized this fight sequence over fifteen years ago, but it still intrigued him, the sword play, the realism.

After all, he would know.

He heard a light sigh come from his right, and looked over to find Kim fast asleep, curled up on her side of the couch. Her head was pillowed comfortably on her arm, her knees drawn to her chest. He saw her hair spread out round her head on the soft arm rest. He hardly knew her, but what he did know was that she was everything that had been missing in his life, ever since that fateful day in Japan. From this angle, he had a rather nice view, he had to admit, and he felt the sudden urge to reach out and take her in his arms.

But he did not. Instead, he simply unfolded the blanket from the back of a nearby chair, and draped it over her. She moaned quietly, curling up more tightly beneath the welcome warmth, grateful for the comforting presence.

"Kimberly Possible," he whispered, allowing his hand to linger on her shoulder. "Kim Possible . . . Kim P." he considered, watching her sleeping form. "KP." He grinned. "I kind of like the sound of that.

With that, he headed off to his office to get some work accomplished. He would need it if he didn't have Josh's help for awhile. However, he could not help but remember that there was a beautiful woman asleep alone on his couch . . . a beautiful woman asleep on his couch slightly inebriated.

But he refused to take advantage of her.

--

When Kim woke, she was surprised to find herself alone in an unfamiliar darkened room, covered by a blanket that held a vaguely familiar scent. The blanket was warm and comforting, a caring pressure still lingering on her shoulder. There had been a phone call, she knew, from her in-laws. Something about Josh's mom . . . a heart attack, yes. She looked round, the pieces slowly falling into place. She remembered having a lot of wine, and an absolutely delicious dinner. She remembered the DVD case that sat on the table beside her, she remembered handing it to Ron.

_Ron . . . _Yes, that's where she was.

She glanced at the little digital clock flashing in the darkness. "2:47," it smiled back, blinking at her. She thought for a moment. "Oh, _damn_," she cursed quietly. "I'm late for work."

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_Please, review!_


	7. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: Don't own KP.

_A Note from the Authoress: Okay, 'nother bad chapter for you! But after all, doesn't matter how good it is, as long as it's looooong, right? Hope this chapter clears a few things up for you . . ._

_MrDrP: Yeah, being late for work at three in the morning? Hmm . . . wonder what Kim's up to . . . And yeah, they're not about to jump into bed with each other just yet, although they get close here . . . you'll see what's going on in a later chapter.  
swiglo3000: Oh, you're not going to hate Kim, believe me. Something will be exposed/happen soon. Promise.  
Harufu: Eeheeheehee, same here.  
surforst: Yes, actually, I did! But I chose it for a reason. I'm very glad I'd just seen it, because it'll be referred to a few times from now on, including in this chapter. And well . . . she didn't try to kill her, but there is some tension there as you'll soon learn, and some other stuff involving her work, that you may or may not get until the last, like, sentence of the story. ;) And Kim dressing sexy . . . well, to be quite honest, I couldn't resist. ;)  
IncrediRaider8: Thanks! Yes, Ronnie's very stunned. And yeah, there's something going on with them . . . you'll see.

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**Chapter Six** _

"Hey, hon'," Kim said, cradling her cell phone between her ear and shoulder. "How's your mom?"

Josh's voice sounded strained and tired. "She had surgery; I just gave blood."

"Oh, Josh," she whispered, "I'm so sorry." She worked at some calculations and sketches, the large sheet of paper sprawled out on the kitchen table before her. It was all written in some sort of code, unexpected from a person as organized as she.

"You couldn't do anything about it," Josh assured her. She heard a sort of crackling on the other end of the line, as if he were rubbing at his face with a tissue. She didn't pay it any mind though, Josh was a proud man, and he'd feel terrible if she knew he was crying.

"I just wish I could've been there," she soothed, biting her tongue as she added something to her blueprints.

Josh chuckled slightly, and the sound alone made her smile. "I don't." That made her grin even more. "She might've had another heart attack!" They both laughed softly, realizing that it was probably true. "Remember how she reacted when she found out what you do?"

Her expression darkened almost immediately, and Josh shuddered upon hearing the tone that had tainted her voice. "Yes, Josh. Yes, I do." She set aside her pencil, leaning back in the chair, frowning.

"Oh, Kim," his voice was defensive. "Must you always act like this?"

Her expression only darkened. "And must you always be telling your mother things I explicitly told you _not_ to tell her?"

His own voice took on a menacing quality. "She's my mother, _darling_. She's your mother-in-law. She has a right to know how you earn all that money."

Kim narrowed her eyes. "Do you honestly want to be discussing this with me?" she asked smartly, glancing down at her work.

There was a sort of squabbling from the other end that Kim could scarcely make out. 'Joshie? Is that . . . of yours? Kim?' 'Not right now, Mom.' And it continued in a sort of childish bickering, childish to her, at least.

"I'm sorry, Kim." She could almost hear him roll his eyes. She'd gotten used to it after so many years.

"It's all right, Josh," she said, trying to put the brief, familiar argument behind her. She retrieved her pencil, drafting once more, her tongue stationed in the corner of her mouth in her concentration.

"So how did the job go last night?" he asked, making a painfully daft attempt at changing the subject. The sound of a slamming door echoed, and Kim sensed he'd entered the hospital hallway.

"Good," she lied. After all, she hadn't even gone. Dangerous, she knew, but showing up the slightest bit tipsy would've been just as bad. And, too, she'd fallen asleep watching that movie, on Ron's couch.

_She woke again, this time to the smell and sizzling of bacon and eggs coming from the vicinity of what she remembered as the kitchen. She stood groggily, nearly managing to trip over the blanket that had been tangled round her._

_She stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing at her eyes with one hand, successfully smearing her eyeliner into little raccoon circles, and combing her matted hair with the other. Her bare feet padded softly on the hardwood floor, and she was greeted with the sight of Ron Stoppable cooking her (well, she assumed he was doing it for her, as, according to Josh, he rarely ate) breakfast. But, naturally, the more interesting portion of the scene was Ron's obvious lack of a shirt. He was wearing a pair of Fearless Ferret pajama pants, whistling to himself as he worked at the eggs._

_She was about to greet him, when he asked, "Sleep well?" He hadn't even turned around._

_She smiled. "Yeah," she responded. "Thanks."_

"_For what?" he turned round to look at her._

"_For . . . you know," she was never the sort of girl to admit that she liked being taken care of like, well, a girl. She came up to stand beside him, resting her elbows on the edge of the counter, looking up at him._

_He wasn't particularly handsome, she noted, not in the way Josh was, at least. His general stature and presentation was that of a 'dork', the sort of guy she knew she could easily beat up. But now, looking at him in such a circumstance, she saw that, although not bulked up, his muscles were taught and toned. The mop of blonde hair that settled itself on top of his head never seemed to lie right, always mussed up. His warm cocoa eyes were intent on his work, caring and focused at once._

_A light blush seemed to cross his freckled cheeks as he lowered his eyes. "You like eggs?" he asked, his lips curving slightly into a smile._

"_Mhm," she responded, watching them sizzle._

_A very awkward silence fell over them._

"_You seemed really into the movie last night," she commented. "Personal favorite?"_

_He looked up, staring straight ahead, thinking. "You could say that," he finally decided. He couldn't tell her that he was particularly fond of that specific film because it was, in its own way, close to home. Not that there was a direct connection between him and the hero, Cloud, but the loss of a loved one, a sort of mystical destiny . . . that all rang a bell, and he found it odd that, of all the DVDs he'd offered, she'd chosen that one._

_Maybe she'd chosen it for a reason, too._

"_It was good," she replied, trying to keep the conversation alive._

"_What was your favorite part?" he asked._

"_Hmmm . . ." mentally, she ran through the events of the movie. She remembered the girl, Tifa, fighting one of the villains, flipping around 'Matrix' style, landing on walls, performing seemingly impossible feats. "The fight scene with Tifa," she chose._

"_I like that one, too," he commented wistfully._

"_Really?" she asked, smiling up at him._

"_Yeah," he sighed. "Reminds me of someone I cared about very much."_

_She considered pressing further, asking about this person whom he so deeply loved, but she decided against it, choosing instead to lay a hand against his bare shoulder. He flinched slightly at the contact, and she almost drew her hand back, but when she felt the muscles beneath her fingers relax, she simply rubbed lightly there, apparently unaware of the compromising position she'd just put them in. She could feel him almost leaning into her mini embrace. He felt something stir in him, something beyond perversion and longing and lust, but instead a sort of completeness, something clicking into place._

_Then, he realized what he was doing: he was pining for his employee's, his best friend's wife. But there she stood, touching his bare skin, looking at him with those emerald eyes, those beautiful eyes he hardly knew, but longed for all the same. She was rumpled, disheveled, her dress wrinkled in awkward places, her makeup smudged and her hair tangled and looking even less orderly than his own. But she was in her right mind, no longer slightly blinded by the wine, and he could take her, right now, if he wanted, no longer be the virgin in every way imaginable. She would let him, too, he thought. Just for the sake of making love for making love, and not worrying about her 'inadequacies,' and instead seeing them as an advantage. But he wouldn't._

_He hardly knew her, after all._

_He cleared his throat nervously, causing her to pull her hand away. He managed to save their breakfast from burning. "Hungry?" he asked, fixing up two plates of bacon and eggs. He refrained from any eye contact whatsoever, choosing instead to concentrate on the food, an expert chef._

"_Yes," she said meekly, a bit embarrassed. "Thank you," she added as he took the plates over to a little breakfast nook nearby._

_She sat across from him, poking at her eggs with her fork, now uncomfortable after what had nearly transpired a few moments earlier. Their silence was unsettling, but polite as well. She wished not to walk out on him, nor he to send her away, and so breakfast became a dull void in which both pondered their thoughts._

_His bare foot brushed against her own once, and that was the only time their eyes met, briefly as it was, to show an almost adolescent blush at this unwanted, but not unwelcome, contact._

_She'd left soon after, not bothering to call her employers. They'd call her, of course, and it wouldn't be pretty, but, after all, they needed her. She was the only one for the job and they knew it. She'd settled on revising her drafts over a mug of coffee (not nearly as good as Ron's, as her cooking disability extended to her coffee making abilities) when her cell phone rang. A nervous twinge shook her gut as she thought it might be her boss, but was relieved to see it was only Josh._

"How much?" Josh's voice broke her from her reverie.

"Hmm?" she asked, shaking herself, trying her hardest not to be plagued by thoughts of her visit to Ron's house.

"How much did they pay you?" he asked, his voice holding a slight tone of annoyance.

She switched the phone to the other shoulder, erasing a mistake in her plans. She shrugged lightly, "Don't remember."

"You don't remember?" He found this hard to believe.

"Nah," she lied, an excuse quickly forming on her tongue. "It was enough, though, I suppose."

He sighed.

"What?" she asked, concerned.

"Nothing," he dismissed it. "I'm just really stressed out right now." She pictured him rubbing his temples.

"Well, don't worry about work; Ron says he has it under control," she said casually.

"Ron? When did you talk to Ron?"

She dropped her pencil, preparing for what she hoped would be the last lie of the day. "He . . . uhh . . . called earlier."

"Oh, okay," he responded tiredly.

"Josh, honey, are you okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, groaning. "Pulled an all-nighter last night."

"Oh, sweetie, get to your parents' house and take a nap, okay?"

"Okay," he said. After all, he couldn't argue with it.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Okay," she said, resuming her work. "Call me later okay?"

"Okay."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

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_Please, review!_


	8. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: Don't own KP.

_A Note from the Authoress: Okay, okay, I know I'm, like, a week behind in my word count. BUT we are going out of town for Thanksgiving, so that'sa nine hour drive each way for me to write. And last week we had our run of Scapin (which was FABULOUS by the way), and right now I'm in the middle of Singin' in the Rain auditions. (I'm going for Kathy, so wish me luck! If not, I'd like to be the sexy dancer girl ;)). I'll try to get back on track soon, promise._

_swiglo3000: You have no idea. :)  
MrDrP: Heehee, glad you're enjoying and there will be more trouble in paradise in this chapter, too. And Kim's job? You'll find out in the end.  
Merlin8719: Thank you very much!  
surforst: If you thought that was bad, wait till you see what he does here . . .  
Harufu: Not saying anything about her job yet:)  
kpandron and Evil Chibi Kitten: Glad you're enjoying!_

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**Chapter Seven**

Kim sat on Josh's and her bed, her knees drawn to her chest, her arms enfolding them protectively as she stared blindly at the cell phone lying on the rumpled sheets before her. It was childish, she knew, to be acting like this, to stare at her phone, simply the messenger of bad news, as if she could punish the actual perpetrator himself by inflicting pain on the small object. She let out a deep, shuddering sigh, tightening her embrace. The light on the outer display blinked at her, the sign of a new message.

She wouldn't answer it, though.

Not after what Josh had done. Always thinking of his mother first . . . true, she was sick now, but that was no excuse. He'd done it ever since they'd gotten married. 'Mother says' was the beginning of most of their arguments, although they always managed to overcome their feuds. But it was such a strain on their relationship, a sort of distrust that began with a mere caution and grew into something much more. Sometimes, she'd climb into bed beside him, and attempt to put her arms round him, but he'd shove her away, childishly hanging onto the day's earlier argument. It made her feel so used, as if she were second to his mother . . . the person he had to love, and she, the person he chose to love, he'd push aside at the slightest event.

"_How's your mom doing?" Kim asked, taking a sip of her soda. Fast food, yes, the feast of those who cannot cook._

"_A lot better," Josh answered. He sounded relieved, so much less distraught than earlier. Obviously, something near miraculous had happened. She chugged on the straw again, and when nothing greeted her lips, she shook it, only to receive the same result. She tossed it expertly in the trashcan and began to make her way upstairs._

"_That's good," she responded half-heartedly. "Anything else new?" She stopped a moment to retrieve some discarded kitchen rags from the step to take to the wash. "Any news of when you're coming home?"_

"_Nah," he said, his voice a bit more uninterested than before. "Just going with the flow."_

"_Well," she asked, her voice showing the disappointment in his feelings. "I miss you." She spoke high and imploring._

"_I miss you, too," he said, almost defensively. "How have you been?"  
_

"_Same old, same old," she sighed._

"_No new jobs?"  
_

"_Nope," she said, throwing the rags into the hamper._

"_That doesn't sound good," he said gravely._

_She shrugged, although he couldn't see her, as she made her way to the bedroom. She quickly set about tidying up the room, fluffing pillows and the like._

"_Oh," he said, remembering something._

_Kim looked up from her work, sensing that no good could come of a remark made when with his mother. Her eyebrow rose slightly. "Oh?"_

"_Mother was talking with this very nice doctor, who said there's this sort of implant I guess." He sounded very enthusiastic, and she had a feeling she would not see things the same way. "It's very new, but it would be able to aid and help repair the female reproductive system!" It was so scripted, she would laugh if she weren't so hurt._

"_Meaning?" But she knew full well what it meant. Josh's mother saw her as useless because she could not have children, and she was bound and determined to fix it, but Kim wasn't. It would hurt her career, surely, and she did not know how to be a mother. All she wanted, all she needed was Josh._

"_Meaning there could be a chance that we could have children!" he enthused, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world._

_She did not respond._

"_Isn't that great?" he asked, obviously hurt._

"_Josh, dear," she said her tone vaguely harsh. "Why are you doing this?"_

"_Doing what?" he asked innocently._

_She sighed. "You know very well . . . we've discussed this. All we need is each other Josh, don't you remember that pact? I don't think I could handle a baby right now, and neither could you."_

"_But the clock is . . ."_

"_Ticking, yes, I know, but Josh, this isn't entirely your decision. It's my body, you know." It hurt to talk to him this way, but this was the last thing she needed. They'd made the agreement before, many times, actually, but talk of adoption and surgery always managed to cross his mind._

_His voice rose. "But you vowed to me-"_

"_And you to me," she countered, almost growling._

"_You said you loved me!" That was low, probably the most hurtful thing he could have possibly said to her._

"_I do!" she whimpered. "But you don't seem to love me."_

"_Maybe I don't," he said harshly. This argument had escalated much quicker and to a much deadlier result than any of their others. Tears quickly stung her eyes at his childish statement._

_The line went dead._

_She closed the phone and threw it to the foot of the bed, staring at it dejectedly._

--

The phone rang again, mocking her in its quiet, jovial melody. She grabbed it roughly, throwing it open and slamming it to her own ear. "I hate you, Josh!" she screeched into it, her sobs coming quickly. But the voice on the other end stopped her whimpers and moans instantly.

"Kim?"

"Ron?" she whispered, horrified, having not wanted to let him know her relationship with Josh had come to such.

"Kim, are you all right?" he asked, concerned. His voice held all the tenderness and care Josh's lacked, countering her husband's cruelty and complete disregard for her feelings and opinions.

She sniffled. "Yeah, I'm fine," she lied.

"Then what was that about you hating Josh?" He'd caught her, and his tone confirmed it.

"Nothing," she sighed.

He didn't believe her, and beseeched her to explain. After a while, she did so, crying openly, hugging a pillow tightly to her chest, opening herself to him, showing him how weak she could be, how horribly and pitifully weak Josh had made her.

"Oh, Kim," he breathed, unsure of what exactly to say to make anything at all better. "I'll be right over," he decided, instantly scrambling for his jacket and car keys.

"What?" was her confused remark, punctuated by a light sniffle.

"Isn't that what friends do?"

--

About twenty minutes later, Ron arrived at the Mankey household, running up the front walk and immediately ringing the doorbell. He was greeted by an interesting sight: that of familiar green eyes, although now clouded by tears, vibrant red hair, tangled and sticking up in random places, and a set of pajamas one would expect to find on a teenage girl, not a thirty-five year old woman, disheveled and wrinkled.

"KP?" he asked, unsure, now that he was there, of what exactly he was supposed to do. Should he hold her? Kiss her? Assure her everything would be all right? Say Josh was a jerk? A million things were running through his head at once, until he felt that light presence pressed so intimately against him, fresh tears gracing his neck. His arms embraced her gently, gingerly, deftly stroking her hair as he simply whispered "Shh . . ." for it was all he could muster.

Her little hands clasped tightly onto his shoulders, trembling as she finally allowed all her stress and sadness to escape through her quiet sobs, to not feel quite so unworthy, so inadequate as she was held for the first time in a long, long while.

It was true, too. Ron was everything she had ever expected to look for in a man, and, had she known him earlier, she'd have probably ignored him like so many others. But now she knew, she _knew_ that he was the sort of man that deserved love, the sort of man she could see herself with in old age. He was supportive, he was kind, and he was right there, in her arms. "Ron," she breathed, her voice, although shaken, was tender.

"It's okay," he soothed fondly, pulling away from her slightly, setting about fixing her hair. He thought, why would Josh risk something like this? Wouldn't having her be enough? Apparently not. Having a perfect wife wasn't enough for him.

Ron reached up and touched her chin briefly, even more uncertain of himself now. She smiled slightly, rubbing at her eyes and nose, a little embarrassed. "Thanks, Ron," she said. "For coming, I mean." She looked around, as if tears were threatening her once more. "I really don't think I could have handled being alone any longer."

"It's no big," he answered, a goofy grin crossing his face. "Always willing to be with you." She reached up and wrapped her arms round his neck, drawing him close once more, silently guiding his own hands to find their way to her waist. "You can spend the night, if you want," he ventured boldly, his mouth and wits flying before his mind could stop them.

She nuzzled into his shoulder gently. "Thank you, Ron," she murmured. "You're a great friend."

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_Please review!_


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